


Serious Things

by SympathyForTheBlinderDevil



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil/pseuds/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil
Summary: Arthur, Tommy, and their driver are on a journey to Miami to meet Al Capone. On a stop in South Carolina, Arthur meets Mollie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a "fish out of water" tale for the Peaky boys. Arthur finds a little bit of love on the road, and Tommy behaves like a diva. I've been playing with ideas for Arthur, and this is one that I couldn't put out of my mind. I hope you enjoy it!

Arthur was hot and thirsty. He had climbed into a 1924 Duesenberg at the harbor a week ago wearing the lightest suit that he owned and bound for Florida. He had packed only necessities knowing that there was a long car trip ahead of him. He’d even read a few pamphlets about automobile travel in the United States, but nothing could have prepared him for the surreal and unnatural experience of traveling through the coastal plains of America on the long trip to meet Al Capone.

The roads, if you could call them that, were oftentimes sandy, gritty paths. They would travel for hours scarcely seeing any signs of civilization other than weather-beaten shacks or the odd general store. As they traveled, the countryside had gradually morphed from lush green forest growth to swamps and scrubs. Arthur was determined to take the unfamiliar surroundings in stride. He saw it as a chance to better understand the American associates that they now did business with, and he liked to engage the locals in conversation.  
Between visits to Capone’s southern associates, he had learned about the Venus flytrap, watermelon, and cheer-wine cola, down by the coast. He went on a hunt for fool’s gold and ate pecan pie in the Piedmont of North Carolina. He had sat in rocking chairs and on stools all down the line, talking to old men in overalls. Coon dogs lazed at their feet, their tails thumping the weathered wooden boards beneath them. He had even developed a taste for sweet tea— Iced sweet tea. Now they were somewhere in between the Inner Coastal Plain and the Tidewater regions of South Carolina, and he wondered what might lie in store for him there.  
Thomas, on the other hand, remained on edge. Accustomed to being in control of every aspect of his life, he found that the variances in the landscape mirrored the unpredictable nature of the whole trip. He liked to plan every detail down to the letter, so stopping at unfamiliar roadside motels and cafes made Tommy bad company for the journey. Even the friendly hostesses that Capone had arranged for them did little to assuage Tommy’s black moods.

Hours had gone by with no sign of civilization, so they had both become a bit tired, grouchy, hot, and thirsty. The driver followed his map to a roadside cafe that was frequented by Capone’s associates and hoped for the best. Thomas groaned as the car pulled into yet another sandy gravel lot beside yet another old shack which served as a cafe. “Where the fook are we?” he mumbled as he took the stool next to Arthur, who was as disoriented and travel dazed as he.

“Yemassee, South Carolina” Arthur drowsily replied.

“Fookin ‘ell. The place names here are as mad as the ones in Wales.” His eyes were on the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, and he was growing perturbed that no one had been out to serve him yet.

Arthur put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. From the back of the house, a woman’s voice called “I’ll be there directly!”

Arthur and Tommy turned to each other and shared a look of weary surrender. The Shelby boys had made the city of Birmingham, Kimber, Solomons, and the entire Changretta crime family bend to their will, but the lackadaisical pace of life in the southern US had utterly broken them. 

Their chauffeur for the trip, a fast-talking Capone soldier named Nino shook a toothpick from the holder on the counter and grinned “You boys are getting used to it, I see. The first time I came through this way I nearly lost my mind. These people down here, they don’t get in a hurry for nobody or nothing. It’s the fucking heat. They have to move slowly to conserve energy.”

Arthur slicked his hair back and blew out a lungful of air. He spun off of his stool and began to pace. Just as he was about to shout for the waitress, she came strolling out of the kitchen, smiling at the three men and wiping her hands on her apron. His aggravation was completely forgotten as his eyes were drawn to the swing of her hips.

“Sorry to keep y’all waitin’. What can I get you boys to drink? I got sweet tea, co cola, and coffee.”

After a week on the road, Tommy and Arthur knew the drill. They sat quietly while Nino produced a calling card with Capone’s insignia engraved on it. Prohibition was on in America, and alcohol was only on the menu for certain trusted customers. The waitress’s eyes sparkled as if she had been waiting her whole life for a little excitement and here it was, sitting at her lunch counter on a Thursday afternoon. She grinned mischievously and said, “We’ve got rye whiskey, gin, and homebrew.”

Tommy ordered rye whiskey for himself and Nino, and Arthur, in his most gentlemanly voice, asked for a beer.

She walked toward the back to fetch the drinks, and Arthur rubbed his chin as he watched her go. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed, “Could you be any more obvious, brother? We don’t need any trouble. She could be the Sheriff’s daughter. They really do shotgun weddings down here, right, Nino?” Tommy was only half teasing.

Before Arthur could reply, the waitress returned carrying a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in her hands, and a bottle of homebrew in the crook of her arm. She popped the top on the beer first. Foam rose over the lip of the bottle and spilled over her hand as she held it out to Arthur. With a lascivious smirk, he watched the suds drip down her fingers. “Well, shoot. Would you look at this sticky mess? Let me get a towel,” she fussed.

She wiped the bottle, the countertop, and then held eye contact with Arthur as she slowly wiped each finger of her hand before giving the bottle to him.

Tommy cleared his throat and Nino chucked his hat onto the bar in an effort to get her attention. She slid the whiskey and glasses down the bar in their direction and gave them a sweet smile. “Help yourself, boys. It’s on the house.”

Tommy sat with an incredulous look on his face. He was not used to being ignored or playing second fiddle to Arthur. In a bit of a snit, he took the bottle and glasses to a table, and he and Nino settled in for a drinking session. They were scheduled to stay the night in Yemassee and alcohol was definitely a requirement in this endeavor.

Arthur took a sip of the watery beer and leaned up on the bar. “So what’s your name...” he searched her left hand for a wedding ring, and finding none continued, “Miss...”

“Mollie,” she said, and then offered her hand to him.

Arthur took her still-sticky-with-beer hand and kissed it, tickling her knuckles with his mustache. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Mollie. I’m Arthur,” he gestured toward the table and continued, “that’s my brother, Tommy, and our associate, Nino.” As he introduced each man, they smiled and nodded in her directions.

“I’m pleased to meet y’all,” Mollie beamed at her guests but put most of her attention on Arthur. She leaned on the bar and raised her eyebrows, “Y’all aren’t from around here, are ya?”

Arthur laughed and shook his head, “That’s an understatement. My brother and I are from Birmingham, England, and our driver is from Chicago.”

“May I ask what brings you boys down here?”

The second that her words hit his ears, Tommy was on his feet and moving toward them. “What brings us down here is business of a personal nature. Now, you saw the card, you’ve given us our drinks, let’s leave it at that, sweetheart. You can go back to the kitchen and we will call for you if we need anything more, eh?”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall above Mollie’s left shoulder.

Tommy’s cold blue eyes bored a hole into Mollie, but she put her hand on her hip and looked at Arthur, who was seething with anger. “Arthur, honey, I’m going to excuse your brother’s poor manners because he has been on the road all day.” She cut her green eyes in Tommy’s direction then back to Arthur. “Same as you no doubt, but he does not seem to be blessed with the same demeanor as you.”

She shifted her eyes back and forth between the brothers, who were having some kind of psychic showdown, and sighed. “I am going to the kitchen to finish icing some cakes. If you think you’d like a piece,” she looked Arthur up and down, “come on back.”

As she turned to go, Arthur touched her arm and in a low, gritty voice said, “Please excuse my brother’s rudeness. I would love to join you. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Mollie winked at him and tossed her auburn waves over her shoulder as she walked away.

Tommy shoved Arthur on the shoulder. “What are you doing, eh?”

“Give me some credit,” Arthur spat. “Don’t you believe that I can ‘ave a bit of fun without bringing the bloody law down on us. I wasn’t about to give anything away, but now you’ve gone and made it sound like we are up to no good. She’s seen the card. She knows who we do business with. Fookin ‘ell. Just take your bottle and you and Nino fuck off to the boardinghouse.”

“Alright, brother,” Tommy spoke, barely above a whisper. “You be sure to bring us each a piece of cake when you are finished talking to Mollie.” Tommy’s words dripped with sarcasm, and Arthur wanted to knock the smirk off of Tommy’s face, but he thought the sooner he could get rid of him, the sooner he could get back to her.

Three cakes on stands were cooled and ready for frosting. She had mixed powdered sugar, butter, heavy cream, and cream cheese in a batter bowl, and had just dipped a finger into the frosting and popped it in her mouth when Arthur came through the swinging doors.

The sight of her sucking frosting off of her finger with her pretty red lips made him a little dizzy. “Ah, can I get another beer?” he smiled.

She pulled her finger out of her mouth and walked toward the icebox. “Yes, sir.” She opened the bottle, without foam this time, handed Arthur the beer, and nodded toward a place where he could sit down.

“I’m much obliged,” Arthur smiled and sat on a pickle barrel. “I really am sorry about my brother.”

“It’s alright. I know what to expect when people flash that calling card in here. It’s usually some big shot from New York or Boston, making their way to Miami. Sometimes they are a little out of sorts and want to throw their weight around.” She smiled and shrugged on her way over to where Arthur sat. “But you...you’re different.” She tilted her head to the side and searched Arthur’s face. “You have kind eyes.”

Arthur was dumbfounded. He was the most unpredictable and violent of the brothers. The one who was sent to injure, maim, and kill the Blinders’ enemies.

Arthur’s mouth went dry and he swallowed, “You don’t know what these eyes have seen.” He held her gaze as he took another swig of his beer.

“I’ve heard stories about Capone’s men, but I can’t imagine them being true.”

“We’re not Capone’s men. We’re Peaky Blinders, from Birmingham, England. We do a bit of business with Capone, but we are our own men.”  
“Yes. You seem like your own man,” she trailed off and her eyes swept over his hair, the creases around his eyes, and the freckles scattered across his cheekbones. Fading sunlight from the open back door danced across his knuckles and she could see the scars built up there. “You’ve not had an easy life, have you?”  
“What makes you say that, love?”

“It’s okay. Neither have I.”  
She stepped closer to him, and he noticed a bit of frosting on her wrist. He took her hand, pulling her closer and bent his head down to kiss it away all the while looking up with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Let’s not talk of serious things. I’ve had enough of that from me brother today.”  
Mollie felt a tingle down her spine from the contact, and Arthur, sensing her reaction, turned her hand over and kissed her wrist. This elicited an audible sigh from her, and he chuckled low in his throat.  
“And you’ve come all the way from Birmingham, England just to steal my heart?” she whispered, taking another step closer and stopping between Arthur’s legs. She ran her free hand through his long hair, brushing it back as she leaned over his face.  
He could feel her warm breath and her lips were inches from his own. He looked up at her, savoring the feeling of attention from a woman who wasn’t being paid to keep him company. It was a feeling that Arthur hadn’t enjoyed for a while. Her cheeks were flushed and her soft green eyes were dilated; she was real flesh and blood, not playing a part. Arthur knew that he must tread carefully and not hurt her. “Mollie,” his gravelly voice spoke, “you know that I will be moving on tomorrow, right? Whatever happens tonight is just for tonight.” He held his breath, hoping that she would understand.  
She leaned down and kissed his waiting mouth, wisps of her hair tickling his cheeks, “I know,” She smiled against his lips, “Let’s not talk of serious things.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur spends the night with Mollie and makes a discovery. Tommy behaves like a diva because some things are beyond his control.

Cicadas were making an almighty racket, splitting Tommy’s head with a ferocity rivaled only by the thought of being trapped in Yemassee a second longer. Blinded by a sun that he was not accustomed to, frustrated by an isolation unfathomable to him before this trip, and horribly hungover, he snapped at the old man stood before him in oil-stained overalls and shite caked boots.

“Two days!” Tommy shouted his expression a picture of rage. He put his hands on his hips and fixed the mechanic with a glare that could freeze the demons out of hell. 

“Yep, and gettin’ all het up ain’t gonna make it come any quicker.” The mechanic drawled, wiping his greasy hands on a shop rag. “I’d be happy to give ye a tire off my own truck, but it ain’t gonna fit that there Dusenburg. They gotta special order it, Mr. Shelby.”

Nino intervened, concerned that the congeniality of the old man would wear thin if Tommy continued to rant. “Thank you, sir. Please, make the necessary arrangements.” He handed the man a ten dollar bill and turned back to Tommy who was smoking furiously and flexing his jaw muscles in between drags. 

“Tommy, look, I know you’re pissed off, but you can’t take it out on the locals. They all know the score; they’re used to seeing Capone’s associates come through their town, but we don’t need to go looking for attention.” 

“How the fook did this happen, eh? The car was fine yesterday,” Tommy growled. Sweat had beaded out on his forehead and was soaking through the back of his waistcoat, and it was only 8:00 am. “Now we’re stuck in this godforsaken hole for two more days.” Tommy turned the nail that the mechanic had found in the tire over and over between his fingers. “I’ll bet Arthur had something to do with this. A nail in the tire is an old family trick.”

“Nah. I think Arthur’s been too busy to sabotage our progress. That Mollie really took a shine to him.”

***

Arthur woke up to the smell of hot coffee. He blinked, unsure of his surroundings in the light, but the memory of soft green eyes and tangled auburn hair shining in the dim glow of an oil lamp soon brought his location into focus. After spending some time getting to know each other, Molly had taken Arthur’s hand and led him to her two-room shack behind the cafe. 

Her sheets smelled of her perfume, and Arthur stretched beneath them, trying to recall where he had left his pants. Just then, Mollie appeared in the doorway in a filmy white cotton gown, a mug of coffee in each hand. She stepped into a beam of sunlight as she entered the room, and Arthur hummed appreciatively as the gown became transparent and revealed the outline of her body. She flicked Arthur’s drawers up onto the bed with her foot, “Lookin’ for these?” She giggled. 

“Nah. I thought I’d spend the day in me altogether,” he chuckled as he shimmied them on and gratefully took a piping hot mug from her hand. 

Mollie leaned against the bedpost and sipped at her coffee, admiring Arthur’s sinewy body. He had skin as pale as milk with a scattering of cinnamon freckles. She licked her lips as she remembered the way his skin tasted. “We have cake for breakfast, ‘less you’d rather have eggs and bacon. I can slip into the kitchen of the cafe and grab some if you’d like.”

Arthur felt the outside world melt away when she spoke to him. He could listen to her low country drawl all day. “Cake will be perfect, dear.” Arthur cleared his throat and patted the narrow bed, prompting Mollie to sit down. “Mollie, I have to leave soon. Tommy is probably champing at the bit to go already.” He took her hand and cast his eyes down. 

“I know,” she whispered, “and it’s alright.” Mollie reached up and caressed his cheek. 

“I wish things were different. I’ve really liked my time with you...uh, and not just the relations.” He nodded toward the bed as he spoke.

“Me too, Arthur. You are a wonderful man. I wish you didn’t have to go so soon, but I understood what I was getting into when I,” She blushed and searched for the right word, “brought you here.”

“C’mere, love,” Arthur murmured, and pulled her down into the bed. She lay her head on his chest, her hair fanning out over his pale, freckled skin. A single salty tear trickled across her cheek before falling to Arthur’s collarbone. She trailed her fingers through the pale thatch of hair on his chest and traced the lines of his tattoo, wishing that they could have one more night together.

“If things were different, I could get used to having you around.” He softly spoke, and he meant it. Arthur had been into snow and whores for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to make love with a woman who was there out of passion and tenderness of feeling, not just because she was paid to be there. Mollie was no angel, but she was with him because she wanted him; she was attracted to the sparkle in his eyes and charm in his smile. She had no expectations of him, financial or otherwise, and she made him feel things that he had never felt before. It was more than just sex; something magical had taken place. 

One night of passion had done this to them. They had tumbled into her bed as soon as they reached her home, and when it was over, they had stayed up late into the night talking. Arthur told her about his family and explained his scars and tattoos, and she told him the story of how she had come to live in a little shack behind a cafe in Yemassee, South Carolina.

Her family moved around too much for her to bear. Most of the year they worked at fairs and carnivals throughout the south, and she longed for a settled life. Since her family had roots in Yemasee at one time, she figured it was as good a place as any. She got a job at the café, rented the little shack behind it, and that was that. After she told him her story, they held each other all through the night, neither wanting to let go. Everything felt easy, like they had known each other for years.

Afraid that she would fall to pieces if she laid there any longer, Mollie wiped her eyes and sat up. She gave Arthur a little smile over her shoulder, “I’ll get us some more coffee and a slice of hummingbird cake.” As she moved about in the kitchen, getting plates and forks, she heard frantic whispering coming from just outside the door.

“Mollie, Mollie Girl,” a voice hissed from behind a row of hackberry bushes. 

“Who is that?” Arthur whispered to Mollie.

“It’s my next door neighbor’s daughter,” she told Arthur. She rolled her pretty green eyes and smiled. Mollie stepped out onto the porch and spoke to the bushes, “Come on out from there. What is it Pearl?” 

“They’s a white man, named Mista Shelby. He’s mad mad. He say he’s lookin’ fo a Mista Arthur Shelby. You ain’t got him back here wi’chu, do you?” 

Pearl looked up at Mollie with big brown eyes framed by glossy black lashes. She wore a light green shift dress that was about a size too big for her. It had been Mollie’s, like many of the clothes Pearl wore. Unfortunately, they didn’t share a shoe size, and so she stood barefooted in the sandy dirt waiting for an answer. 

“The man that’s with him, Mista Nino, gave me a nickel to run see if Mista Arthur Shelby was back here. They think he is.” 

Arthur walked out onto Mollie’s small porch, and Pearl covered her mouth to hide a smile. She quickly looked down. Arthur held his hand out to her, “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Pearl. I’m Mister Arthur Shelby.” 

Pearl’s hand trembled as she daintily shook Arthur’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you,” she finally managed to softly say. Pearl looked up into Arthur’s smiling blue eyes and decided that he was alright.

“Now, Miss Pearl, I am going to give you a half dollar to go tell Mister Nino that I am indeed here, and that if that mad mad Mister Shelby wants to see me, he can either wait until I am ready to see him, or he can walk back here himself.” Arthur rummaged through his pockets as he spoke until he fished out a half dollar and laid it in the palm of Pearl’s hand. “Okay, there you go, you take that message for me.”

Mollie and Pearl looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Mista Shelby! If I took that kinda money offa you my mama would wear my hind end out with a strap!”

“It’s true,” Mollie confirmed.

“Alright, how about a quarter?” Arthur began digging back through his pockets until he fished out a twenty-five cent piece. 

Pearl looked at Mollie and shrugged, “Yes, Mista Arthur. I can deliver your message for a quarter. Thank you!” Pearl smiled and took off toward the boardinghouse.

Arthur and Mollie finished their coffee and cake, half expecting to be interrupted by Thomas, and made their way back to Mollie’s room. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they tried to find a way to say what neither of them wanted to say: goodbye.

In the light of day, Arthur could see more of Mollie’s room. There were scarves, a shelf with a photograph of her brother in his boxing gear and another of her ma and pa with a horse. A small dresser with a bottle of perfume, some dusting powder, and a brush. His eyes wandered to a crucifix draped with a rosary and a medallion of the Black Madonna. Arthur’s mind raced… her last name was Locke…her family traveled and worked at fairs, boxed, and dealt in horses… 

While he was thinking he had become very still, and Mollie propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. He had a far off glassy look in his eyes, as if he were about to burst into tears of joy. “Arthur,” she shook him gently, “what’s the matter?” 

“Are you a Gypsy?” he asked.

Molly fell back against the pillow beside her, worry etched across her pretty face. “They say I am on my Pa’s side. How did you know?” She never knew how people would react when they learned of her Romani blood, and she braced herself for the letdown.

Suddenly Arthur’s lips were on hers, his hands were tangled in her hair, and he began murmuring words of love to her in broken Shelta.

When Mollie could come up for air, she grasped both sides of Arthur’s face and looked into his deep blue eyes. “Are you?”

“On me mum’s side. Oh, Mollie Girl, I think this is fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit with whether or not to use dialect. I am a southerner, and it galls me to no end when the accent is used to denote backwardness or a lack of intelligence. That is not the intention here.
> 
> Also, the word Gypsy is used. I avoid it when possible, but I feel that since the Shelbys routinely use the word in the series that Arthur would likely use it in his conversation with Mollie.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you are enjoying my fluffy little story about Arthur. Deep down I believe that he is a good boy, he just needs a good woman to love him and feed him fried chicken and biscuits.

Tommy licked the sweat off of his top lip and stepped onto the freshly swept porch of Mollie’s house. He noticed an old black cat lying next to a bucket full of green beans as he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow. The cat lifted his head and lazily blinked his yellow eyes at Tommy before yawning and settling back down. “Bloody hell. I’m in bloody hell.”

He was annoyed with Arthur and half convinced that the flat tire had something to do with this Mollie girl. Dragging Arthur out of his love nest out of spite would serve no purpose—they were all stuck for the next two days whether Arthur was with his girl or not, and he’d rather have a pleasantly distracted Arthur on his hands than an angry one— but, Tommy needed to judge for himself if she had anything to do with their predicament. After all, they were Peaky Blinders on a trip to do business with Al Capone. It was quite possible that someone wanted to hinder their progress, and to Tommy’s mind, Mollie was not above suspicion.

The windows to the simple whitewashed cottage were open to allow a little breeze to circulate through the rooms. There were baskets of colorful plants hanging from the porch’s ceiling, which was oddly painted blue. The house was mostly shaded by live oaks, but here and there dazzling rays of sunlight seemed to bleach out the vivid purple and red blooms that surrounded him. Tommy stood listening to the soft murmur of conversation and occasional laughter that drifted on the air. Arthur sounded happier than he had in years, but Tommy knew from experience that sometimes the happiness that a woman brings is wrapped in duplicity. He found himself genuinely hoping, for Arthur’s sake, that his suspicions were unfounded.

Arthur spotted his brother through the screen door and quickly strode through the front room to undo the latch. He stepped out onto the porch and quietly spoke, “I’ll be ready to go within the hour. Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you at the boarding house…”

“No need,” Tommy interrupted, as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. He picked a piece of tobacco off of his tongue and flicked it away, looking out at the small garden at the side of the house and smirking as he did. How perfectly quaint. When his eyes returned to Arthur’s, he observed confusion. His older brother was the most guileless person he knew, so he obviously didn’t know about the tire.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been a mishap with one of the car’s tires. Looks like we will be stuck here for two days until we can get another one.”

Mollie approached the door, smiling and carrying a glass of sweet tea. She opened the door and addressed Tommy, “Morning, Tommy. You look like you are burning up. Come on in and have a cold drink.” She offered the glass to him and made way for him to enter the front room. He eyed her up and down, a little coolly for Arthur’s liking. Unfazed by his manner, she gently rattled the glass in his direction. Oddly shaped chunks of ice floated in the whiskey colored liquid, and beads condensation rolled temptingly down the sides reminding Tommy of the beads of sweat which currently rolled down his back. He tucked his handkerchief into his pocket, accepted the tea from her outstretched hand, and followed her inside.

He took a drink of the syrup-sweet liquid, and God, it was heavenly. He cleared his throat. “I was just telling my brother here that someone has put a nail in one of the tires on our car.”

Mollie showed an appropriate amount of concern, her brows knitting together slightly as she motioned for Tommy to sit down in the only upholstered seat in the room. She took a seat in an old cane-bottomed chair, and Arthur, slightly on his guard, leaned against the doorframe.

Tommy continued, “Do things like that often happen around here?”

“No,” her eyes widened, “I’ve never heard of anything like that happening.” She shook her head, “That would be an expensive trick to play on a person, and why would anyone do such a thing?”

Tommy leisurely crossed his legs and blew a stream of smoke. It seemed to follow the beam of dappled sunlight that was shining on Mollie’s face. Arthur recognized what his brother was doing. He’d seen it a thousand times before, and he straightened up, resentful at the fact that Tommy was playing interrogation games with the girl.

“I don’t know? Why do you think that someone would do a thing like that, Arthur? Any ideas?” Although he was speaking to Arthur, he stared straight at Mollie who was beginning to catch on to what Tommy was doing.

Arthur’s face went red and he clenched his fists at his sides. “No, Tommy, I don’t.” Arthur breathed heavily through his nose like a raging bull, while Tommy rolled his eyes in condescension.

Mollie looked back and forth between the brothers and recalled the same dynamics playing out in the café the night before. She began to rise from her seat, thinking it best to let the brothers work this out on their own. She excused herself in an even and polite tone, “If you boys will pardon me, I need to snap some beans for supper; I’ll just be on the porch.”

“No, stay,” Arthur was speaking to Mollie, but pointing to Tommy, “What is it that you are after, eh? She’s been with me all night.” His tone was quiet but venomous, his anger at his brother was visceral.

Tommy never changed his cool demeanor as he replied, “I’m not after anything Arthur. It’s just that Mollie, here, has been a resident of Yemassee her whole life I’m guessing, so I thought that maybe she could shed some light on the situation.” He took another draw from his cigarette and blew the smoke toward the ceiling, his eyes perusing the peeling white paint on the visible beams.

Mollie shifted in her chair, the creaking sound drawing both brothers’ eyes toward her. “I don’t like to get involved in family politics or whatever this is, but since I seem to be the object of suspicion here I feel the need to defend myself.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to him…”

“Yes,” she cut in, “I do. I don’t take kindly to being accused of things.” She switched her eyes toward Tommy, “As a matter of fact, there’s no need to beat around the bush, Mr. Shelby. If you think I did something, go ahead and ask me. I won’t lie to ya. There’s no need to pussyfoot around. You think I put a hole in your tire to keep y’all from leaving? Well, I didn’t, and I have no idea who would do a fool thing like that. You most likely picked a nail up on the road, who knows where, and THAT is what caused the leak.”

Arthur leaned back against the doorframe and crossed his arms. A smile played around his lips as he watched her tear into Tommy, who was trying to get a word in edgewise but was quickly shut down.

Tommy sarcastically chuckled, “Sweetheart…”

“Save it, I ain’t finished. Now, I have been nothin’ but nice to you, and you have no absolutely no reason to come in here all high and mighty, flingin’ false accusations, eyeballin’ me, and being a general pain in the ass.”

Tommy looked at Arthur who shrugged as if to concede that she had a point.

He sat and looked into Mollie’s pale green eyes for a moment. She unflinchingly held his gaze. He turned everything that had been said over in his mind and decided that he believed her. Actually, he quite liked her. There was something about her that reminded him of Polly, though only God knew what it was. He stood from his chair and drained his glass of tea. “It wasn’t my intention to cause offense, Miss...” He didn’t know her last name.

Mollie rose and approached him. As she took the empty glass from his hand her lips curved into a slight smile despite her efforts to keep a straight face. “Locke,” she finished for him, “and, you did. We’ll let bygones be bygones, though. You boys will be here for a couple of days, and there’s no sense in the two of us being sideways with each other.”

“Fair enough,” Tommy said. He walked to the door and clapped Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur smiled and raised his eyebrows at his brother. He knew that for all his brooding and paranoia, his brother was only looking out for them.

“And Tommy,” Mollie called after him, “Supper is fried chicken. You and Nino need to be here by six.”

Arthur caught Mollie by the hand and pulled her to him. He kissed her deeply, dipping her backward until they both stumbled and began laughing. Arthur eyes twinkled as he told her, “I’ve only seen one other person handle our Tommy like that, and that’s our Aunt Pol.”

“Well, he made me mad. And besides, I was afraid that if I didn’t do something the two of you would start breaking up the furniture.”

She nibbled at his ears and rubbed the velvety sides of his head, then whispered. "Go and get changed into something you can wear for a walk in the country. I have something I want to show you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie shows Arthur something that makes him wonder if she could be the one to save him from himself.

Mollie had dressed for the path that they would walk on their adventure. Her hair was braided into two plaits and tied up with a dark blue bandanna. She had on a shirt that she hadn’t worn in a couple of years because she didn’t want to wear any of her “good” clothes where they were going. She had gained a little weight since she had last worn it, and her breasts strained at the buttons, but she didn’t think Arthur would mind. Her curves filled out her denim overalls which were tucked into a pair of tattered lace-up work boots. 

Arthur had to stifle a laugh when she came out of her bedroom. “I’m sorry, love, but those boots!” he wheezed.

Mollie arched an eyebrow at him and warned, “Well, look at how you’re dressed! You won’t be laughing when you are plumb eat up with chigger bites and I’m checking your balls for ticks.” 

“Checking my balls for what?” he sputtered and looked down at his attire: a plain cotton shirt with no collar, his usual brown trousers, and a pair of oxford shoes. He became more serious as the meaning of her words settled on him. “And what’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Ticks. And you don’t want to leave the bottoms of your pants open. I’ll find a pair of my brother’s boots for you to borrow. You can tuck your pants into them. Where we are going, there are things that crawl and bite and will keep you awake for weeks scratching like a hound dog. It’s best to limit possible points of entry.”

With Arthur properly suited and booted, they set out across the scrubby field behind Mollie’s house. Arthur carried a gunny sack that Mollie had packed with cheese sandwiches, homemade pickles, and jars of icy well water. The field was lush with sage grass and hay up to the waist, and she hastened across it, leading Arthur to the wooded thicket beyond. He could now understand why she was dressed the way she was and why she had insisted on his wearing her brother’s boots. 

After they had walked for a while, Arthur asked, “Are there snakes out here, Mollie?”

“Not many,” she answered, with a sideways glance. 

Arthur quickened his pace, practically running until they reached the coolness of the woods. Mollie caught up with him, giggling as she collapsed, sitting on the ground beside him. They settled under the canopy of shady trees while they caught their breath, and Mollie took the gunny sack from Arthur. She pulled out a jar of water and took a drink, offering it to Arthur when she was finished. It was still cold from deep in the ground from which it was pulled.

“You’re a hard man, Mr. Shelby. Don’t tell me that you are afraid of snakes.”

“Nah, they’d take one look at these boots and slither off in the other direction.” Arthur took a drink and passed the jar back to Mollie, stealing a sidelong glance at the way her shirt skimmed over her damp skin.

He then looked up into the treetops, and as he took in his new surroundings she studied his face. He had a rough handsomeness that she had never seen the likes of before. His freckle-dusted complexion and deep blue eyes didn’t seem to go with his inky black lashes, but she was glad that they did. The contrast was mesmerizing. She gingerly traced a scar that ran from his eyebrow to his cheekbone, then leaned up to kiss it. His eyes fluttered closed and he took a deep breath.

“I like it here. It’s peaceful,” he exhaled.

“I do too. It reminds me of being on the road when times were good. My ma would take me foraging. We’d find berries, greens, mint for tea, then we’d take it all back to camp. My pa would make a big deal of it all, going on and on about how I had found it with my sight. He really made me feel special.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I miss the way that he used to be. Before everything was about money, and deals, and fighting.”

Arthur got a faraway look in his eyes. “I used to fight…quite a lot. Now I just run the matches.”

“Why’d you stop?”

He looked at her, searching her face for a sign if he should give an honest answer. Something in her eyes told him that she’d understand. “I killed a boy.”

“Oh.”

“Does that scare you?”

“No,” she quietly replied and took his hand. She ran her thumb over his scarred knuckles. “Honey, we’ve all done things that we’re not proud of, things that we regret. But when I look at you, I see a soul worthy of redemption.”

As she spoke, she moved closer and closer to him until he could feel her breath caress his cheek. Her plush red lips gently kissed his jawline, and his eyelids drifted shut. At that moment, if all the rest of the world fell away it would be alright with him. Still, after a moment of peace, the nagging memory of all of his bad deeds came creeping into his thoughts. He felt that he could never escape the judgment that would surely come for all of the beatings, the cuttings, and the murders he had committed in his short lifetime. 

He dropped his head down to his chest and sighed. “Oh, Mollie. If that were the only horrible thing that I had done…” After a moment he cleared his throat and pulled one of her braids. “So. Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

She grinned at his obvious attempt to lighten the mood. “No. You’ll have to wait and see,” she teased while she pushed herself up off the ground and dusted off the seat of her overalls. “But we need to get moving if we are going to be back in time for me to cook supper for Y'all.”

They picked their way through the woods for what seemed like hours, stopping from time to time to rest or just to talk. Mollie kept the conversation light, and Arthur could not remember a time when he had felt so free. He was weightless. All of his worries with his family, with the business, with the noise inside of his head, was gone. All that remained was the soft laughter and tender touch of the girl who was walking beside him. 

“Are you hungry yet?” her voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good, because we are almost there. It’s a long way to go for a picnic, but I think that you’ll find that it was worth the trek.” She jogged ahead of him, looking back over her shoulder and shouting, “Come on!” as she bounced toward a break in the tree line.

When they reached the clearing, he was amazed by the sight before him. Majestic granite columns rose skyward into nothingness. Pieces of walls, here and there, seemingly held up by the honeysuckle vines that twirled their way around the crumbling red bricks. Arched windows that once held stained glass were draped with bougainvillea and yellow jessamine. She had brought him to a ruined church.

Cicadas rattled in an unrelenting ebb and flow as Arthur made his way to the crumbling steps where Mollie stood. Strands of her auburn hair had escaped her bandanna and fanned out in wisps around her head, catching the sunlight and glowing. She looked like an angel. 

She put her arms around his neck when he reached her. “Do you like it?”

“It’s amazing. I mean, we have these in England, but not like this.”

They stepped inside and he whispered, “What happened here?” 

“Your tribe helped us redecorate the first time it was gutted,” she playfully replied as she led him further into the decaying bones of the church, “but it was destroyed for good when Sherman came through on his march to the sea.”

“During your Civil War.”

“Yeah.” She stopped, and Arthur stood beside her, still holding her hand. Mollie stared wistfully into the trees beyond the ruins. Spanish moss cascaded thickly from every branch. Arthur’s eyes followed her own, and when she turned to look at him she couldn’t help but smile at the placid warmth she saw on his face.  
She rested her head against his shoulder and quietly spoke, “It’s strange how a place like this, a place that saw so much violence and destruction can become beautiful, even peaceful over time.”

“Like a sort of redemption?” he mused, and he leaned his head over onto hers.

Mollie brought his hand to her lips, tenderly kissed his scarred knuckles, and whispered, “Yes, and I believe that people are the same way.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollie has the gang over for supper, and Tommy decides that it's finger lickin' good! Arthur makes Mollie an offer she can't refuse.

“I’m in here,” called Pearl when she heard the screen door slam. 

Mollie followed the sound of the girl’s voice into the kitchen and found her cutting a fryer into pieces. She had enlisted Pearl’s help to prepare the night’s supper, for she knew time would be short when she and Arthur returned from their day out.  
“You’re a godsend, honey,” she sang as she squeezed Pearl’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head, and she meant it. They worked side by side, bumping hips as they scooted around the tiny space. 

At thirteen, Pearl was almost as tall as Mollie and able to take on the workload and responsibilities of someone twice her age. She had stopped going to school the year before; it was commonplace in the rural south for girls to stop going to school after 6th grade, and Pearl thought nothing of it. Her mama needed help, and so they worked side by side, cleaning houses and taking in laundry. Her favorite thing to do, though, was to cook at the café when Mollie needed an extra pair of hands. Pearl’s mother, Lucille, was an old friend of Mollie’s, and Pearl was like a little sister. The three women looked out for one other.

“Where’s your man at?”

“Mister Shelby,” Mollie stressed, “went back to the boarding house to get changed for supper.” 

As Mollie spoke, she ran a bowl of salt water to soak the chicken and added a dollop of bacon grease to the freshly snapped beans that simmered on the stove. Quick as a flash, she mixed flour, salt, and pepper to coat the chicken and melted lard in the frying pan. More lard went into a large bowl with flour and a splash of buttermilk to make biscuits. She scattered flour on the table and motioned to Pearl to roll out the dough and finish them up. They hardly needed words when cooking together, through countless hours of working cheek to jowl, they had developed a language made up of half utterances and gestures.

The cast iron skillet sizzled when she tested it with a flick of water, so she made quick work of coating the chicken with the flour mixture and getting it into the grease. Everything was moving on schedule. Mollie looked around at the table and countertop, which were currently being wiped clean by Pearl, and smiled. Thanks to the girl’s help, the supper was sure to be a success. She made a mental note to send Pearl home with enough food for two plates and a big hunk of chocolate cake.

“Can you manage to finish this without me? I desperately need a bath.”

“Yes, Ma’am, but it’ll cost ya.”

Mollie raised her eyebrows at the girl who stood barefoot in her kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel and grinning. “And what, pray tell, does that mean?”

“I want to know all the details about your trip to the woods with Mister Shelby. ‘Specially since you have stick-tights all over the back of yo shirt.”

As Mollie rolled her eyes and headed for the bath, Pearl called after her, “…and all up in yo hair!”

***

By the time Mollie got out of the bath and brushed the burrs out of her hair, Pearl was setting the table, or tables, rather. In the absence of a table large enough to accommodate all of her guests, two tables were pushed together and covered with a cloth. The dishes and the chairs were mismatched, but the smell of fresh biscuits and perfectly fried chicken went a long way to compensate for the lack of largesse. In fact, her humble, warmly imperfect home was part of what Arthur loved about her. There was a sense of ease about it. There was no need to hurry or stress when he was at Mollie’s house. The rest of the world seemed to melt away, and all he could see was the light in her eyes and the magic in her smile. 

Supper went off without a hitch. Arthur had made Tommy swear to be on his best behavior, and Tommy honored Arthur’s request. Tommy asked about Mollie’s family in the most unobtrusive way that he knew, and Mollie opened up about traveling with her father’s work and with the fairs. She knew a fair bit about horses and boxing, which impressed Tommy. When Arthur mentioned their shared Gypsy background, Tommy smirked knowingly. “I knew there was something familiar about you.”

“I don’t know much about it,” Mollie confessed. “The old ways went with my grandmother, and my pa never taught me. He was far too busy with other pursuits.” 

From the time that they arrived until the time that she brought out a post-dessert bottle of Irish whiskey, Tommy was the perfect gentleman. He complimented her cooking and ate everything on his plate (which amazed Arthur, who hadn’t seen his brother eat a decent meal in years). He even asked her to write down her biscuit recipe so that his cook at Arrow House could make them. The girl was pleasant enough company, Tommy reckoned, and he saw no harm in Arthur spending time with her while they were stuck in Yemassee. Arthur was much easier to deal with when he was relaxed, and Mollie seemed to know the secret to unwinding the coiled up energy within him. 

After clearing the table, Mollie suggested that they go out onto the porch to enjoy the cool night air. Tommy and Nino each settled in a rocking chair and kept the bottle of whiskey on the floor between them. Mollie’s tom cat had leaped into Nino’s lap the moment that he sat down, and the burly Chicago gangster busied himself scratching the old cat’s ears and softly talking to it. Tommy found the droning call of the cicadas, which usually drove him mad, pleasantly hypnotic. Maybe it was the whiskey, but the evening had a dreamlike quality to it. Smoke curled from the end of his cigarette as it leisurely burned down to ash. Tommy, caught up in watching the scene just a few feet away from him, had forgotten to smoke it. 

For just a few feet away, Arthur and Mollie sat on either end of her porch swing. Her bare feet were cradled in his lap, and he lazily ran his fingertips up and down her calves. Arthur’s eyes were closed, his head rested on the high wooden back of the swing, and a gentle smile played on his lips. Mollie hummed a quiet tune and drowsily watched Arthur’s fingers. They were obviously made for one another. He had seen Arthur “court” several women, but he had never seen his brother display such tenderness and vulnerability. Tommy wanted to be happy for his brother, but as his mind processed the scene before him an uneasiness took hold. Arthur did everything to excess—fighting, drinking, snow—now Tommy saw his brother caught up in new extreme that would either complete him or destroy him. Arthur Shelby was in love.

*** 

Mollie gripped onto the brass headboard of her bed and arched her back. She feverishly panted and struggled to keep her thighs apart when all she wanted to do was squeeze Arthur’s head between them. He had spent what felt like an eternity licking, sucking, fingering, and teasing her, bringing her over the edge again and again. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she begged, “Arthuuuurr! Please!”

“Please what, Love?” he murmured, crawling forward, planting soft, sensual kisses from the curve of her abdomen to the spot right between her breasts. He flashed a devilish grin and turned his head to the left, drew her painfully hard nipple into his mouth and sucked. Mollie shook as she felt her walls contract for the umpteenth time that night, and she writhed beneath him. He pinned her down with his body and held her hands above her head. “You just keep holding onto that brass for dear life. I’m going to give you what you need, Pet.”

She could feel her slickness dripping down her ass onto her sheets. Arthur’s length was hard and heavy against her. “Oh, yeah,” he growled, “You’re ready, aren’t ya?”

Mollie wrapped her legs around his back and ground herself against him until his cock mercifully slid in. He lost all composure at that moment. He breathed her name and held her tightly to him as he set an achingly slow pace. Mollie struggled against him, bucking her hips and causing him to thrust deeper into her. 

“You’ve tortured me half the night, Shelby, you don’t get to take your time about fucking me.”

Mollie rolled him onto his side and swiftly pushed him down on his back. “It’s your turn to hold that brass for dear life,” she purred as she straddled his hips.  
As she lowered herself onto his cock, he sucked in his breath between clenched teeth. She steadily rocked her hips and her heavy, round breasts bounced with the motion. Arthur watched her ride him and was begging her to slow down within seconds. “God, Mollie, I’m going to blow my load. You’ve got to slow down.”

“Like this?” She rolled her hips and slid him out until just the head remained between her glistening lips. She licked her fingers and spread herself so that he could see her swollen clit as she worked it. He grabbed her hips and thrust himself inside her, bucking harder and faster than ever. She moaned and fell forward onto his chest as he guided her, riding higher and higher until he lost control. She could feel his hips stutter as he shot hot jets of cum inside of her. As his cream spilled out of her, she rubbed it into her quivering bundle of nerves and shuddered out another climax before collapsing, sticky and sweaty on the bed beside him. 

They lay in the darkness, blissful and dazed for the count of ten, then Arthur turned to look at her. She was perfect. Wild and sinful, kind and loving. Most importantly of all, even though he felt no judgment from her when they talked of his past, she made him want to be a better man. He had to do something to stop their separation.

For her part, as the glow of ecstasy left her it was replaced by the horrible realization that this God among men was going to leave her in a matter of hours. She fought to push the thought from her mind. _Just stay here in this moment. Don’t think about tomorrow. Don’t ruin it._ But it wasn’t that easy. She longed to confess her feelings to him, as silly as it seemed. In just a matter of days, she had become inextricably attached to a man she hardly knew. A gangster. A thug. A criminal, at that.

There was also the matter of the pieces of her life that she had failed to reveal to him. She supposed that if she unburdened herself of the serious things that they had agreed not to speak about that he would show her the same level of understanding that she had shown him. But what was the point when he would be gone before the sun set on tomorrow? She dragged the sheet up from the foot of her bed and snuggled into Arthur’s neck, matching his slow, even breaths without knowing that he was drowning in the same flood of worry. 

 

***

In the stillness just before dawn, Nino banged on the screen door and set every dog within a five-mile radius to barking. Like a ripple when a stone is thrown in a pond, one baying hound after another strained against ropes tied to trees, stirring up dust in soft, worn, grassless patches in yards. 

Arthur sat bolt upright and reached for his revolver which was on the bedside table, always inches away from wherever he slept. Molly stirred gradually out of a lazy fog. She slowly stretched her arms above her head until she realized that Arthur was moving toward the door with a cocked pistol. She sprang up on her knees, holding the sheet to her chest, and called, “Whoa! Arthur! It’s probably just Pearl! Sometimes she comes here to sleep when her mama has company!”

“Shhh!” Arthur hissed. He held his hand up in a signal for Mollie to be quiet. She settled back down on her pillow and rolled her eyes as she imagined that the most that would come of this is a terrified neighbor girl and a silly feeling gangster. She heard Arthur ease the creaking screen door open and go out onto the porch. When she heard the low hum of masculine voices, she became a bit concerned. 

Mollie searched the sheets for her gown and slipped it over her now cold body. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders before padding on catlike feet into the front room. The windows were up, and she recognized the second voice as belonging to Nino. 

He insisted that Arthur come with him to check out an operation a few counties away. “Al sent word to Tommy that we should go with these guys. They will take us over to Salkehatchie and have us back by nightfall tomorrow. We can stay an extra night, then be on our way.”

Arthur scratched the back of his neck and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “And Tommy agreed that we would stay an extra night?” 

“Yeah, to wait on his decision. If we are going to bring these guys in on the operation, we can handle it while we are here.”

Arthur hated to leave Mollie’s bed, but this errand could buy him another precious night in her arms. Besides, he was expected to follow orders for the good of the American business that they were cultivating.

“Alright, give me an hour,” Arthur rasped over his shoulder as he eased back into Mollie’s house. 

She was waiting there for him. “I heard,” she whispered, pulling her shawl more tightly around herself. “Do you think it is a good idea?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been told to look into it, though, so I have to go.”

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” She nuzzled her face into his bare chest as she spoke. She was hopelessly attached to him, and although she had prepared herself for the certainty of his departure, this sudden change in plans was unsettling to her.

He gently pulled her chin up so that her face was inches from his. In the pale light of dawn he fell into the soft adoration he saw in her eyes. 

“I’m always careful. But, Mollie,” he paused and brushed his lips against her forehead, “this is my life. There will always be calls in the middle of the night. Business will always be conducted in the dark.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her heartbeat to his. “There will always be danger.” 

Mollie whispered into his ear, “I understand.” But her heart had begun to pound. The way that he spoke suggested that they had a future, but he was supposed to leave…

He took a deep breath and worked up the courage to say what was in his heart. “Do you, Love? Because I want you to be a part of my life. Mollie, girl, I can’t just leave you behind. I know that this is crazy, but I want you to come back to Small Heath with me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy decides it's time to do some checking into Mollie's background. With Arthur gone for the day, he forces Mollie to confront a part of her past that could be detrimental to the Peaky Blinders...and he looks damn good doing it.

Tommy stared a hole into the old man who shuffled his way down the hallway, pushing a broom. He had been told by the girl who temporarily shared his bed the night before that old Mr. Jackson knew everything about everyone in this town. He hummed as he worked, occasionally stooping to buff a scuff mark out of the shiny wood floor. As the old man came closer to Tommy’s door, Tommy stepped out into the hallway, blocking his way.

“Morning, Mr. Jackson.”

“Morning, Mr. Shelby.”

“Ah, you know my name?”

“I know the names of all those who stay in this here house. I’m a mite surprised that you know mine though, Sir.”

“Do you know what I do?”

“Well, I can’t rightly say that I know your business, but I know you’re a guest of Mr. Capone. You’re a special guest, Sir.”

“In light of my relationship with Mr. Capone, I wonder if you could give me some information about a person who I am sure you know.” Tommy held a crisp one dollar bill between his fingers and extended it to Mr. Jackson. “What can you tell me about Mollie?”

“Mollie Locke? Well, what do you want to know?” The old man glanced around and furtively took the cash.

“One of my associates has become fascinated with Miss Locke, and I want to know with whom he is becoming involved.” 

“Mollie is alright, now…” Mr. Jackson stammered, a bit protectively. Almost defensively. 

“Pardon me, I didn’t mean to cast aspersions,” Tommy conceded, but his tone still meant business.

Under Tommy’s impatient gaze he began to elaborate “She used to work at the boarding house. One of the girls, you know? But now she runs the café and has her own place.”

“It’s not like Al to let his girls, especially ones as lovely as Miss Mollie, retire.”

The man looked uneasy, so Tommy held out another crisp bill. The old man took the dollar and folded it into his pocket. He motioned for Tommy to follow him a little farther down the hall and quietly continued.

“Bout ten years ago, Mollie had just come back to town, she’s one of them Lockes alright. Pretty little thing.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling as if he was trying to recollect details. “Her old man had a run of bad luck. He’d been drinkin’ too much and turned mean, so she come off the road to get away from him. That’s when she started working here. She didn’t have much of a choice. Her daddy’d ruined the family name and nobody wanted to take a chance on a Locke. Well, there was this big shot who came to the boarding house to, well you know, have some company for the night. He said he wanted that little gypsy gal he’d heard about, and she went with him. This man had been drinkin’ and carousing at a roadhouse all night, and we was all worried, but Mollie said she could handle him.”

He paused and looked around before he began again, leaning in closer to Tommy. “Next morning I heard some of the girls crying and carrying on. Then some big boys showed up and carried that man out of here on a slab. Mollie stayed out of sight for a long time. After that, I heard Al let her go. I didn’t ask too many questions, and I don’t like talking about it, so if you don’t mind…”

“Yeah, understood. You’ve been a great help.”

Tommy walked back toward his room and digested all that he’d been told. He needed to speak with her before Arthur returned. If his gut was right, Arthur was on the precipice of making a decision that would change all their lives. Tommy needed to know where her loyalties would lie—with Capone, or with the Peaky Blinders.

Arthur was set in his ways, a predictable lothario, which made the ferocity with which he had fallen for Mollie even more consequential. Tommy needed to ascertain if she was worthy of his trust but would have to tread lightly. He ran the risk of setting his brother off, which was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. They were in America at the behest of a very dangerous man, and he couldn’t afford to have Arthur fucking things up with his temper.

Later that morning he walked along the sandy path that led to Mollie’s house and saw that she was outside watering her garden. She poured water from a bucket onto the ground beneath each plant. He stood at the end of a row of tomatoes, mopping sweat from the sharp angles of his face and patiently waiting for her to come to him. When she reached the end of the row, she smiled up at him and wiped her hands on her apron.

“Hey, Tommy.”

“Mollie,” he greeted her cordially, “I wonder, do you have a moment to talk?”

“Not much time, I have to finish watering before my shift at the diner. We can talk while I work.”

“I was hoping that we could go inside. I wish to discuss something of a serious nature.”

Mollie shifted her bucket to the other hand and checked her watch. She had a feeling that Tommy would want to talk to her about Arthur after the declaration he made earlier that morning. Tommy was in charge, and as such would want to know about how things stood. 

“I suppose I can spare a few minutes.” 

She rinsed her hands under the well pump and hung the bucket on the handle. Motioning for Tommy to follow her into the kitchen.

“Tea?” she asked, holding a pitcher in one hand and a glass in the other.

“Yes, please,” Tommy replied. 

He watched her pour two glasses and carry them to a small table that was flanked by two cane bottom chairs. He lit a cigarette and offered it to her. As she put it between her lips and took a drag, she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I have a feeling that I know what this is about. Arthur has asked me to come to England, so you need to know where I stand in regards to your organization. Am I right?” 

Tommy’s face remained the same, though his mind lurched at this new information. He had no idea that Arthur had already asked her to return with them. Things had progressed further than he thought so he would have to adjust his approach accordingly.

“As you can imagine, I am only looking out for my family’s best interests. You seem like a forthright woman, so I will be forthright with you.” Tommy cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “Do you owe any allegiance to any particular person or organization?”

She blew smoke in his direction and smiled. “You are going to have to be explicit, Tommy. What exactly do you want to know?”

Tommy cleared his throat and took a drink of his tea. “Do you owe anything to Al Capone?”

Mollie shifted in her seat and fiddled with the end of her cigarette. She met Tommy’s penetrating gaze with her own and tried to read just how much he knew. Oftentimes, a man like Tommy already had the answers to the questions he asked and just wanted to judge the other person by their replies. In this case, she did not want to reveal to Tommy something that she had not yet told Arthur. So she answered his question with one of her own.

“Has someone said that I owe Capone?”

“Yes.”

She was thrown off kilter by his blunt reply and stared unblinkingly into his emotionless eyes until she closed hers and sighed. A lifetime had passed since the days when she worked in the boarding house, and she had worked so hard to change the way people around here defined her. Through her efforts, she had succeeded in rising from the ashes of her former life—as far as a former prostitute in a small town could rise, anyway. That was one reason why the prospect of an adventure with Arthur appealed to her; she had very little to lose and everything to gain. She had never been one to wait for a knight in shining armor to rescue her, but Arthur’s proposition was a chance at a brand new life with a man who would care of her. She had begun to think of a home and family, maybe foolishly, but fools rush in where angels fear to tread. She couldn’t let her dreams be snatched away. 

When she opened her eyes, Tommy’s gaze had not shifted. His cigarette smoldered in the ashtray sending wisps of smoke into the air between them. If he knew about her, he knew. The best she could do is see if Tommy cared.

“Would it matter if I did?”

“Yes.”

She smoothly stood and turned toward the pie safe which stood against the wall. She cleared her throat and tried to buy some time with her southern charm. “Would you like a slice of cake?”

“No, Mollie. I’d like an answer.”

_Damn. He was immune to that shit._ She stood with her back to Tommy and weighed her options without his infernal eyes reading her face. She would rather have had time to share this with Arthur on her own terms, but things had moved so quickly that she never got a chance. 

Mollie turned back around and sat down. “Okay, Tommy,” she conceded, “It’s obvious that someone has told you about what happened when I worked in the boarding house. As the leader of your organization and as Arthur’s brother you have to be careful about who you let in. I respect that.”

Tommy blinked slowly and nodded his head. “I’m pleased that you understand.”

Mollie continued, trying her best to keep her voice from wavering. “I know that you don’t owe me anything, but…”

Tommy raised his eyebrows and gestured for her to continue.

“Will you please let me explain this to Arthur myself?”

“That all depends on what you have to say.”

Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, but now she gripped one with the other. She needed to hold on to something because she felt like she was sliding off the face of the earth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy presses Mollie about her past while Arthur is away on a job. Will Mollie's loyalty lie with Capone or the Peaky Blinders?

“I did what I had to do.”

Mollie looked down at her neatly folded hands. Her jaw clenched tightly, causing her back teeth to ache with the pressure. She hated having to explain herself to Tommy. Yes, he was only looking out for the family’s interests, but she much preferred that her past stay in the past. She released the pressure on her jaw and took a deep breath. She flicked her pale green eyes up to meet Tommy’s and began her story.

“My family didn’t really have roots. We moved around for most of my life. My father’s people were Gypsy, but he didn’t keep with traditions. He did like to travel, though. We followed carnivals and fairs. Daddy had a way with horses. My older brother fought all comers. My mama and I cooked…sold concessions…” Her voice trailed off, and she shifted her eyes away from his.

Tommy’s expression had softened a bit. He leaned back in his seat and nodded once. “Go on.”

“As I got older, I found that I didn’t like the life so much. There were always new men hanging around. Bad characters. My brother was becoming a different person —someone I no longer recognized. My father became more involved in the fighting…the bets. He drank too much.” She looked back in Tommy's direction and held her head up a fraction higher. “He didn’t take care of us. He didn’t,” she paused to gather the right words, “protect me as a father should.”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy seemed genuine in the sentiment. He had firsthand experience with a drunken neglectful father. Loquacious and charming in public, but a monster in private. 

She smiled sadly in recognition of his words and continued. “When I left, this is where I came. We had spent more time here than any other place I’d known, and I had some connections. The thing is, he had burned nearly every bridge, cheated and lied to so many folks ‘round here that I was still pretty much on my own. I was young, smarter about a lot of things I should have been, but naïve in other ways. Even though no one wanted to give me a break I hung around. I couldn’t go back. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“So you went to work for Mr. Capone.” She flinched, just slightly, when he said the words.

“Yeah.” She took a drink and heaved a sigh that ended with a bit of a laugh. “Yeaaah. I was working in the kitchen, doing laundry, tending the garden, ironing… everything I could do for the girls while staying out of sight. I slept on a pallet on the kitchen floor and felt lucky to be there. But…It wasn’t long before I got noticed.” Her face lost any trace of a smile and her eyes shifted away from Tommy’s again. 

“Mr. Capone was passing through town and had stopped at the house for the night. He came down to the kitchen to make a sandwich. He wanted to make his own sandwich.” She shook her head at the memory.

Tommy lit another cigarette and leaned forward to offer it to Mollie. As she reached to take it, Pearl hammered on the screen door, calling, “Mollie, girl! Where you at?”

“Shit! I’ve got work.” 

She had sprung up from her chair calling to Pearl that she’d be right there when Tommy caught her wrist in a firm grip. She looked down into his immovable face and he whispered, “Not until we’re finished here.” 

Mollie breathed, “Of course.” Then she called out, “Pearl, cover for me, honey. Something has come up.” She stood in silence, waiting on the girl’s reply, staring into the gangster’s face.

Pearl cracked the screen door and looked around the abandoned front room calling more quietly, “You alright?”

“Yes. Everything is fine. I have something important I need to finish. Just cover for me, okay?”

After the girl left, Tommy released her wrist and she eased back down into her seat. “I wasn’t much older than Pearl when I came back here. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“You were talking about your relationship with Capone,” Tommy prompted, annoyed at the interruption but trying to regain the manner that he had displayed before. He lit his own cigarette and pointed in her direction. “He wanted to make his own sandwich, eh?”

The night that Alphonse Capone found Mollie asleep on the floor of the kitchen, her life changed. She amused him by taking his money with card tricks, and her precocious knowledge of off-track betting was impressive, to say the least. It was quite jarring to hear a wide-eyed beautiful girl rattle off odds and cuss like a sailor whether she won or lost. Capone told the woman of the house to find a place for Mollie on the staff. _Let her play the part of a hostess._ She was to serve drinks, play cards, and accompany special customers to the track. She was like a pet, but he wanted her protected. _She’s too young, now, but she won’t always be. He had said._

She got along with most of the girls, though a few (not many years older than her) resented the fact that she earned her keep sitting in the parlor and going on outings with important men. She had the easy part. When Mollie came home from the races, she got a bath and a good night’s sleep while they filled the gentlemen’s beds. Eventually, the time came when she was “old enough”.

“So, I did what I had to do. I was saved for the big shots. I guess I’m thankful for that.” She blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling and squinted at Tommy with a smirk. “You would have made the cut.”

One corner of Tommy’s full lips raised slightly, as did his eyebrows. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“One night, a busy night, we were packed and everyone was busy. Girls were complaining about being shorthanded. We had a band in, and the whole house seemed to shake from the dancing and the noise…” As she told the tale, she became quieter she leaned in closer to Tommy and lowered her voice. “A man for whom I was not on the menu came in. He was drunk, and he said he wanted that _Gypsy gal._ I foolishly agreed to go with him. I should have known better. I guess I felt like I had something to prove.” 

The air in the room changed, and Tommy suddenly felt cold. The clouds had drifted over the sun and the light that poured into the room was diminished somewhat. Mollie stared at him like she could read the darkest chapters of his soul, all of his wrongdoing, his sins, all the nights that he spent in the arms of a girl like her. Without shrinking from his gaze she continued. 

“He hurt me. When it was over he left me on the floor like trash. I remember, lying there. Dizzy. My eyes were swollen, but I could make out that he was pissing in the chamber pot with his back to me. There was a switchblade…a 5-inch switch. He had told me that he’d use it on me if I didn’t shut up. Something inside impelled me to get that switch and cut him to ribbons. I got him in the kidney and when he turned to fight me I cut the side of the neck. He dropped to his knees and spilled piss everywhere. Then he laid down in the floor and died. I crawled back into bed and slept until they found us the next morning.”

Tommy blinked slowly and nodded. “So that’s what happened.” 

He already knew most of what she had told him, thanks to Mr. Jackson, but he still didn’t know why Al let her off so easily and looked after her welfare to this day. 

“It sounds like Al groomed you to be a whore and put you in a position to be preyed upon by the worst kind of men. So, tell me, Mollie, what do you owe to him?”

Her eyes widened as if the answer was obvious. “When they found me the next day I was more dead than alive. They kept it quiet, and Al sent word for me to lay low. He was passing through here on his way up to Boston two weeks later and wanted to meet with me. Many girls in that position just disappear, Tommy. But when he saw what that animal did to me he set me up at the café. His man owns it, but I run it and get to live here. He believed me. He didn’t send me to Boston, or Miami, or Chicago to one of his brothels. So, I feel an appreciation for the fact that he had mercy on me.”

Tommy smirked and leaned in, “See, that’s the thing. Capone is our friend. But later, who knows? You see, I have been sold out by my closest allies. People who had sworn allegiance to our organization, and to me personally, have betrayed us. I have to be sure that you will remain loyal to Arthur and to us if our friendship with Capone comes to an end.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Arthur is still out of town Mollie finds herself in a horrible position: served on a silver platter to Tommy. Oh, the horror! (sexy horror, but still) What's a (retired) hoe to do?

“Glad you could make it, Bella!” Silvio shouted at Mollie when she came into the kitchen, tying her apron and pinning stray curls into her chignon. Her head snapped up in surprise. She hadn’t seen Silvio in months, and it would be her luck that he would come by to check on the cafe on the day that she was late to work because of Tommy. Pearl was a miracle worker where taking care of the customers was concerned, but there were limits to her magic and the place was swarming with people.

“Silvio, how’ve you been?” Mollie ventured, trying to get a handle on the purpose of the owner's visit.

“Good, good. Is everything alright? You’re an hour late.”

“Yes, I just had a little business to attend to.” She felt it wise to keep the specific reason for her lateness under wraps until she could gauge his mood. Silvio had always been good to her, but she had an odd feeling about his appearing while the Shelby boys were in town.

He smiled warmly and picked up a file of receipts and accounts. “Take care of the lunch rush then come see me. We need to talk.”

She knew that he would find all of her accounts balanced to the penny, but his tone made Mollie nervous. She comforted herself with the hope that in a matter of weeks she would be in England starting a new life with Arthur. 

After the lunch rush cleared out, Mollie and Pearl wiped all the tables down, swept, and began to prepare for the supper crowd. As Mollie worked, she thought of Arthur’s meeting in Salkehatchie and wondered when he would be back. She had assured Tommy that her loyalty began and ended with Arthur—even though she had only known him for days— but Tommy had been adamant about her telling Arthur her whole story. She supposed it had to do with the fact that she had committed murder. She had killed a man, and so it followed that if she felt threatened enough she could do it again.

Something else Tommy said had her on edge. That Al had groomed her to be a whore and then had left her exposed to scum like the man who hurt her. She had been so grateful to have a place to live, food to eat, and a sense of security (no matter how twisted) that she hadn’t really considered it from the point of view that Tommy had. The more she thought about it, the more Tommy’s point of view made sense. Al had created the circumstances that lead to her devastation, why should she feel so grateful that he made the bare minimum effort to help her survive?

“Bella! Come back here,” Silvio called. He used that pet name on all of the girls. Mollie turned her face toward the kitchen and steeled herself for whatever was coming.

“So, you and Arthur Shelby? You got a good thing going?”

“He is a singular man. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

“You didn’t hit it off with Tommy? A beautiful girl like you could have your pick. Why not Tommy?”

“I…why would you ask me that? Where is this going, Silvio?”

He rapped his knuckles on the table top, rings glinting in the sunlight that streamed in through the back door. “I need you to keep Tommy distracted. Al has some plans for the Shelby brothers and it would be best if Tommy were buttered up a little.”

“Wait. I’m with Arthur. I can’t just throw him over and take up with his brother!”

Silvio stopped smiling. “Arthur is busy, right? Out of town. So, Mollie,” he placed one of his heavily decorated hands on top of hers, “it would be in your best interests to do what Al needs you to do. It would be a shame if something happened to Arthur on the drive back to Yemassee. All those dark roads. Accidents happen.”

“Al got Arthur out of town for…for this? The tire…was that you?”

Silvio chuckled deep in his throat and patted Mollie’s hand. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. You just work your voodoo on Tommy Shelby.”

 

***

 

Silvio arranged it all. 

Mollie had insisted on some conditions for her cooperation in Capone’s plan. “I won’t do it in my own bed. At least grant me that.”

When Al had spared her, he thought that she might come in handy further down the line. Typically, he wouldn’t have bothered keeping track of some inconsequential former employee, but Mollie wasn’t inconsequential. She was smart, and she had a way of reading the intentions of the people in and around Yemassee. She was a valuable piece of intelligence, and with no family ties she relied on his charity for everything, her loyalties would lie solely with him. 

When he caught wind of the news that Mollie had one Arthur Shelby eating out of the palm of her hand, he felt that fate had smiled on him. He saw an opportunity to take control of the liquor export agreement he had struck with them. If he could keep them isolated for a few days, and sufficiently distracted, he could raise enough support to force things to go in his favor. If Mollie could get the Shelby brothers at each other’s throats, then all the better. If he played his cards right, he would control the flow of illegal British liquor and force the Shelbys to take a significantly smaller cut. He couldn’t have engineered a better plan if he had tried.

Tommy was bored to death at the prospect of another night alone in a one-horse town. When he indicated that he would pass the night playing cards then retire to his rooms with “someone new” it came as no surprise. The lady of the house let Silvio know that the plan was falling into place, and Mollie was told to be ready.

Mollie had walked the floors all afternoon. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sit, and couldn’t let her mind rest for one moment. When she closed her eyes to try to focus, to think about how she could get herself out of the mess she found herself in, all she could see was Arthur’s face. The way the color of his eyes changed in the sunlight, the bits of auburn in his mustache, the way his hair fell over his forehead when he bent down to kiss her… She had finally found a man who accepted and loved her for who she was. He knew that she had a past and asked for no explanation. Now, she had to betray him, or else.

A knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts, and she mechanically crossed the floor to answer it. One of the girls from the boarding house stood on her porch holding a dress box. Instead of the gloating sneer, she expected to see on the girl’s face there was a sad resignation. Almost pity. “For tonight. Silvio wanted you to wear something special.”

A voice that seemed disconnected from Mollie’s body whispered, “Thank you,” as she took the box and closed the door. She listened as the girl’s steps faded across her porch and disappeared into the soft sandy soil of her front yard. Even the girls at the house knew that this wasn’t right. They had a complicated relationship with Mollie…half resentment, half envy. They got along but always felt a little jealous of Al’s protective nature toward her. Hell, he didn’t even know their names but set Mollie up in her own house and let her bake stupid cakes all day. But for this awful deed Al was forcing her to do, they took pity on her. Tears stung her eyes as she gripped the box and dreaded what was inside.

When Lucille came in through the back door a half hour later, she found Mollie staring blankly at the box on her bed. Inside was a loosely draped ebony satin dress and a non-descript bundle of gossamer black lace that could only be a set of lingerie. 

“The girls told me what you gonna have to do. I brought you somthin to help.”

She held a small bottle out to Mollie. It was a concoction of alcohol and codeine. “Now, don’t go taking too much. You’ll need your wits about you. I just thought you might need something to settle your stomach.”

Lucille remembered the days when Mollie would get sick before entertaining clients and wanted to offer her friend some comfort. Mollie took the bottle and had a sip. It was bitter, and the taste reminded her of those long ago afternoons of escorting important out-of-towners to Beaufort or Charleston for entertainment. Arthur had gone overnight to Salkehatchie, and she wondered if Al had a girl lined up for him. Someone to distract him overnight.

Mollie’s head was swimming with projections of bad scenes when Lucille touched her arm and said, “I’ll leave you alone now. I know you gotta get ready. But, you’re smart, honey. I know if anyone can figure a way out of this it’s you. I’ll be prayin for you.”

“Thank you, I’ll need all the help I can get.”

 

***

 

Mollie was a vision. Like some dark angel, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Painted and powdered, her lips were blood red and her eyes were ringed with black kohl. Her hair was pinned into an intricate braid at the base of her neck and kiss curls adorned each cheek. The dress that Silvio sent over was exquisite. It draped low in the front and back revealing the shimmering spider web of black lace that scarcely covered her breasts. A long strand of jet pearls hung down her back. Sheer stockings came just to her knees and were held there with sparkling garters that matched the Egyptian style cuffs on her arms. She dripped elegance, class, everything that would succeed in tempting a man like Tommy Shelby into betraying his brother.

As she ascended the stairs, she felt like she was floating. She wondered if Tommy would even recognize her, decorated and costumed like a gangster’s dream. All eyes followed her as she knocked on his door, and Silvio stood watch to make sure that she followed through with her mission. Tommy gruffly answered, “Come in,” and Mollie dropped her right shoulder as she reached for the doorknob; her dress slipped just a fraction to reveal a creamy shoulder. The girls all held their breath as she entered Tommy’s room and closed the heavy door behind her.

The room was illuminated by a single Tiffany lamp, and Tommy squinted in the dim light. He was sitting on the bed with his shirt undone, braces hanging down, and his cufflinks and glasses off. A cigarette dangled casually from his lips. She sensed a hint of recognition in his cold eyes, but he gave no sign of speaking. No outward reaction to his surprise at her presence. Mollie clocked his demeanor and figured that he had been drinking but was not quite drunk. She took a few swaying steps toward him and licked her dry lips. 

“You wanted someone new, Mr. Shelby.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy struggles with the allure of Mollie's charms, and Mollie struggles to keep her virtue intact. Arthur is still in BFE, and none the wiser.

Mollie’s wet lips glistened in the lamplight, and her half-lidded eyes promised Tommy that he could have anything he wanted. Her heart pounded in her ears, nearly obscuring the sound of his silky voice.

“Mollie, come here.”

She stepped closer and slipped between his legs. His eyes grazed over her body, barely concealed in the black satin until he tilted his head back slightly. She rested her arms on his shoulders and brought her body close enough to feel the heat that radiated from him. She had to sell this. Silvio was very probably just on the other side of the wall listening, if not watching through some kind of peephole. 

Tommy’s hands remained at his sides as Mollie lazily caressed the back of his neck. He was weighing his options and was not entirely convinced that he should take her. Even if she was still a whore, Arthur was crazy about her, and the last thing he needed was trouble with his brother while they were doing business in the States.

“So I guess you were right after all. I made the cut.” The cigarette between his lips bobbed dangerously close to the powdered flesh of Mollie’s chest as he spoke, so she plucked it from his mouth and took a drag. He cleared his throat as he watched her pouty lips blow smoke.

“Would you like a drink, Mr. Shelby?”

“No.”

“I see, maybe I can tempt you with something else.” Mollie placed the cigarette into the ashtray on the nightstand and sank to her knees. She could smell the spice in his cologne mixed with his sweat, and she nearly swooned. 

The twin hounds of disappointment and loathing were at Tommy’s back. He had not expected this. He had wholly misjudged her, which bruised his ego. She had convinced him that her intentions were good where his brother was concerned, and he had bought her act. Now, she revealed her true character. She was either scheming to ally herself with the brother in charge or to gain some kind of emotional currency. He had seen it too many times before with women like her, and he was disappointed in himself for not recognizing it.

On the other hand, she was stunning, and he wanted her. That’s where the loathing came in. In the light of day she was appealing, some would even say beautiful, but this was something altogether different. Gone was the firecracker whose combination of sensuality and maternal instinct had swept Arthur off his feet. The woman who stood before him was every sinful fantasy he’d ever had, personified. Taking her to bed tonight would satisfy his carnal desires, and it would prove to Arthur that Mollie was not what she had seemed. He didn’t want to betray his brother, but the smell of her skin and the swell of her breasts was driving his lust.

She rubbed her hands down his arms and placed her hands on his thighs. He arched an eyebrow at her and she purred, “Is this okay? You can tell me what you like,” she glanced at the bulge in Tommy’s pants, “although I can see that you like what I’m doing so far.”

Tommy closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through his nose. He was losing the struggle of caring what Arthur thought of him using Mollie for the night, and the last vestiges of brotherly honor were slipping away…but when he opened his eyes, he saw Mollie reaching into her bra for something. Everything snapped into focus and his instincts returned. He caught her wrist, expecting her to have a blade or a derringer, but instead, she held between her fingers a carefully concealed slip of paper. Her pleading eyes darted back and forth between Tommy’s, and she silently mouthed, “read it.”

A moment of realization passed between them and Tommy nodded his assent. Mollie began working on the buttons to Tommy’s shirt as he reached for his glasses. “Hold on, Sweetheart. I want to see the show.”

He secreted the paper in the palm of his hand and read the words, “Al made me do this. Arthur in danger. I can help.”

Her shaking hands peeled the shirt from Tommy’s body, and he turned her around to undo the back of her dress. As he undid the clasp, he nuzzled her neck and whispered into her ear, “Are they planning a hit tonight?”

“Mmmmm, Tommy…we have all night. No need to rush.” Tommy understood her answer and played along.

“Oh, I plan to take my time with you. Stand up and turn around.”

She did as she was told and her dress pooled on the floor at her feet. She stepped out of her heels as Tommy swallowed thickly and pulled her down into a deep kiss. Mollie trailed down to his neck and whispered, “He wants you distracted so that he can skew the deal. They threatened to hurt Arthur if I didn’t seduce you.” She moaned and climbed astride his lap.

They locked eyes and he could see tears beginning to form even though her face was a mask of seduction. He caressed her cheek and her neck before pulling her closer, his hands and lips all over her.

“Are they listening?” he breathed.

She stayed in character and purred, “Yes, Tommy, Yes…”

“Watching?” he murmured into her chest, while he undid the laces of her brassiere.

“Mmmmmm…” then below her breath, “I don’t know, but he wants proof.”

He eased the lace off of her body and mimed, “Proof?”

She dropped her gaze to the bed and bobbed her head slightly.

Tommy sighed and gave her an apologetic nod. He flipped her onto her back and shed his trousers. Despite the lingering heat, she shivered in her expensive trappings. He had left her in her panties and stockings like a gift to be unwrapped. To the right of her head stood a decanter of whiskey and she shifted herself up to a half-sitting position and eyed it longingly. The courage that Lucille had given her earlier was fading, and she felt that she might retch at any moment. Tommy understood her need and poured them both a glass. He hovered ever nearer and raised a toast. 

“Here’s to new and ever more satisfying friendships.”

They drank it down, and Tommy drew closer to her, their faces inches apart. Anyone looking on would only see a man devouring his cocotte, but his cold blue eyes were soft. He silently promised to do what was necessary without destroying the honor she’d fought to regain. He slipped between her legs and pulled the sheets up around them. What transpired under the covers wasn’t easy for either of them, but it was convincing enough to satisfy Silvio. More importantly, Tommy produced proof without actual consummation. 

When it was all over, Tommy propped himself up of the plump feather pillows that rested against the headboard of the bed and lit a cigarette. He offered one to Mollie but she declined; instead, she swung her stockinged legs over the side of the bed and began to collect her things.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought you would want me to leave.”

He scoffed and gave her a devilish smirk. “No, Sweetheart. I paid for the night, and that’s what I’ll be expecting.”

Her face fell and her blood ran cold. In the shadows, it was hard to tell where the real Tommy ended and the subterfuge began. He pursed his lips in an exaggerated pout and patted the bed beside him. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll send you tottering home before Arthur can find out.”

She slipped back into bed and he held his arm out, gesturing for her to lie next to him with her head on his chest. She did as he wished and they lie in the stillness of the room until they felt reasonably sure that anyone watching or listening would have abandoned their post. When they heard Silvio’s boisterous laughter above the noise in the parlor downstairs, Tommy let her know that he felt it best that they have some semblance of a plan in place before she left him. 

“You’re right… and thank you for not...a lot of men would have taken advantage of this situation.”

“It took courage and loyalty to do what you’ve done tonight. I know they forced your hand. Threatened you.” His hand brushed her loosened hair away from her eyes and leaned his head to the side to meet her eyes. “You are under the protection of the Peaky Blinders, now. We will deal with Capone and I will personally see to it that you and Arthur are together in England by the end of the month.”

Deep into the night, they conspired in whispers how to tell Arthur about their ruse, and how to make their escape.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
